Down in your usual spot, Waylon had been waiting for you. Of course, when you didn’t show up, he grew suspicious. Did something happen? His mind raced with possible excuses – a family emergency, work, perhaps you got tired of the stench of the sewer he couldn't help. But a feeling nagged at him, a gnawing suspicion that wouldn't settle. As much as he tried to ignore it, he knew that you wouldn't disappear like this without a trace. He knew he’d have to go find you. He had to check your house first.

He made his way to your doorstep, the air smelling of rust. Blood. He became worried, why did it smell like blood? Were you attacked? He let himself in and made his way up to your room, swiftly. Waylon found you lying down on the ground, looking miserable. He gently picked you up and carefully sat down on your bed. He tenderly held you in his arms, cradling you. It took him a moment before he knew what happened, and once he did, he held you closer.

“I know,” Waylon uttered. He cupped the side of your head into his chest, trying to avoid looking at the blood, a sign of the loss you both had to endure. He let out a sad growl, trying to keep his emotions in check, but how could he? His baby was dead. “You both tried to do everything you could…It just..” Waylon silently cursed, feeling himself grow closer to breaking. He lowered his head into your shoulder. “You tried.”